


Effulgence

by dee_thequeenbee



Series: Iridescence Verse [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: And a bit of sadness, F/M, just a lot of fluff, missing year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26647126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dee_thequeenbee/pseuds/dee_thequeenbee
Summary: regina's birthday - a gift - they throw a ball - private moments
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Robin Hood
Series: Iridescence Verse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/923337
Comments: 11
Kudos: 14





	Effulgence

**Author's Note:**

> from the prompt: for her birthday, Regina uses the dress from 5.12, just because Snow convinces her to wear her favourite dress and try to have a good time. Robin asks Regina for a dance and compliments her, and she gets all soft with him for the first time, and when they dance they almost kiss because for a second Regina lets herself loose and be happy in the moment. 
> 
> set after Crystal Clear and The Maze, but before Iridescence.

She goes riding, on her birthday.

The stables are not warm, not at all, as February has just begun. And she needs it – needs to feel the wind on her face and the strong muscles of her horse, and _freedom_ , freedom most of all. She touches the wood of the door, when she enters, remembering a very different birthday – it was years ago, a lifetime has passed, and Daniel has led her to a waterfall and he made her dance in the evening. It was magical, and it made her believe in love.

She shakes her head, Regina, and wills her thoughts away. She has no need for them, not right in this moment, she knows, as she leads the beautiful black mare outside. She hopes, _hopes_ no one has seen her when she slithered out the castle’s walls.

The thief, probably.

Their last encounter with her sister left them… in a difficult position, as a matter of fact, and she sighs, because she doesn’t know where they are. Something stings inside her heart, something bleeds, something rips and shatters what she thought was numb and of stone without her son. And it would be a reason to be scared, to fear, but she has already decided… he’s not –

“Milady.”

She flinches, as if she’s been stung with a poisoned needle. She keeps stroking her mare’s neck, thinking she should have been swifter, quicker, she should have mounted her and run away.

“Thief.”

She hears him chuckle, from behind her, that throaty sound she’s come to appreciate these past few months. “You know you can just call me Robin, your Majesty.”

“So you _do_ know how to use the proper titles. Good,” she says, turns towards him, sniffing lightly. “I was beginning to think your skull was too thick for that.”

“Consider it a birthday present,” he offers, ever so kind. He’s… scrutinizing her, she realizes, so she averts her eyes, back to her mare.

“I told Snow, I don’t want presents. I didn’t even wish for all the castle to know it’s my birthday, you know. But apparently she has never learned how to keep a secret, after all.”

“I wouldn’t say the _whole_ castle knows,” he reasons, and he’s so close, when did they end up being so close? So close, that she can feel the warmth of his hand next to hers, on her horse’s back. “Just me. I overheard her talking to the Prince about it, I apologize – I didn’t mean to. But this reminds me, I brought you a gift.”

She’s just opened her mouth to protest, that she doesn’t want gifts, doesn’t – _deserve_ – gift, and he’s the last person who should – but he doesn’t let her, and presses an envelope into her hand.

“You can open it later,” he says, meets her eyes for a quick moment, then he drops his gaze, and she could swear she sees a hint of blush on his cheeks. Then, he looks at her again. “I – I had the Princess help me make it, I thought you may like it. And – milady,” he is serious, so serious as he touches her hand. “Be safe today, during your ride. Reach out to us if you’re in danger, the woods are still lurking with monkeys. Please.”

She is taken aback, it makes her itch to take his hand as well, but she just nods. She swims into his eyes for one last moment, and coughs slightly. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “For my gift.”

“Of course,” he smiles, that cockish smile back on his face now that he knows she will be careful. “I’ll see you tonight at the ball, mila- your Majesty.”

He steps back, watches her mount, and nods when she looks back at him one last time.

.:.

It’s a drawing.

Henry’s face stares back at her from the parchment paper, and she takes great care in drying her tears before they reach the page. This is his gift for her birthday – his and Snow’s, she imagines, but this is his hand, because she knows Snow can only draw birds. This is… so precious, she holds it close to her heart. She doesn’t have pictures of her son, not in this world, and to think that he has spent time drawing the perfect picture for her to keep, is…

She sighs, her back against the willow near the river. It’s a peaceful spot, made warm by magic, and she bring her cup of tea up between her gloved hands. The drawing stares at her, Henry’s face smiles. Her heart is still bleeding, but it’s a good pain, today. Today she can remember her son and all the ways he celebrated her birthday, and try to be happy, because it’s what he’d have wanted.

.

_how much sorrow can I take_  
_labor of my shoulders_  
_and what difference does it make_  
_when this love is over_

.:.

The festivities for Imbolg are a pagan tradition, but Misthaven has never cared for a single god anyway, Robin knows. They always celebrate, between the winter solstice and the first day of spring, and it is also Regina’s birthday, so he has been told it was the only way for the Princess to organize a ball without drawing too much attention to the Queen.

He readies himself, kisses goodnight to his son – who is, in fact, recovering from an illness that wasn’t serious, but has left him tired and heartbroken that he has to miss “Majestry’s” ball. “You’ll be the guest of honor at the next one,” Robin promises, kissing his forehead, and leaving him to the cares of Doc, who has decided to look after the younger kids.

He’s probably late, he thinks, as he arrives and sees the ball room already full of people. They’re beautifully dressed, all of them, but the one he’s looking for isn’t there yet. He says hello to his men, accepts Will’s jokes about his elegant attire – he has asked the Prince, after all, if he could borrow something of his. He thinks he saw a spark of laughter in David’s eyes, but hasn’t inquired further.

Robin tries to busy himself with trivial matters – to greet the dwarves, and Granny, who’s supervising the tables like an hawk – and Ruby, and Belle, both splendid in their red and green dresses respectively. But then, he’s just been given a cup of punch, when Ruby blinks at him, and smiles. “There she is, your lady.”

He can’t help it, he turns towards the stairs as the music changes.

It’s the Princess, dressed in white and light blue, and he supposed it’s fitting. And it’s the Queen – she looks absolutely _stunning_ , he could very well drop the glass he’s holding.

He doesn’t realize his mouth has opened until he feels Ruby’s hand under his chin, and her laughter. “Dropped your jaw already, loverboy?” she asks, he hears Belle snicker from behind him, and gods, are they really so obvious?

He sees Regina has stopped, when she reached the bottom of the stairs, to greet David and another couple of people. She’s so beautiful, her dress sparkles of red and black and gold, a deep crimson enveloping her figure.

“Are you going to ask her for a dance, Robin?” Belle asks, smiling gently. “She seems in good spirits today.”

“I wonder what’s happened,” Ruby muses. “Must be because it’s her birthday.”

Robin turns towards them, quick as an arrow. “You _knew_ it’s her birthday?”

“Why yes,” Ruby says. “Snow told me years ago.”

“Please don’t tell anyone else,” he tells Ruby. He feels a bit uneasy under Belle’s gaze, but continues. “She… doesn’t like to celebrate. This ball is for the Imbolg festivities, and nothing else.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t tell,” Belle is quick to reassure him. “But now go. Someone will steal her away if you don’t hurry.”

“I’d find it hard to steal from a thief, my friend,” he smiles at her, and drinks the last of his glass before setting it on the table. But his heart wonders, _is_ she happy, or is it a carefully constructed façade?

.:.

Regina is… serene.

The drawing really helped her heart, today. She cried, near that river, and screamed to the skies, and then cried some more, and she’s come home to the castle more tranquil than she’s been in weeks. Not happy, but… calmer, more accepting of reality, in a way she wouldn’t have believed possible months ago.

When she’s dressed herself for the ball, she did have a taste of those old, almost forgotten feelings from her youth. Of old dances and old pains, and a vendetta growing in her darkened heart. But this evening… this evening she has opened the door to Snow White, as she did so many times in her past, but Snow is – incredibly, her… friend. And she’s chosen one of her most beloved dresses, a dress she feels confident and beautiful in, and Regina has walked down those stairs and found someone waiting for her at the ball, and _maybe this isn’t entirely intolerable_ , she thinks.

The music changes again – from a slow violin game to a flute composition, and she tries to listen to David and Snow, but her gaze is captured by the beauty of the ball room. She knew what it looked like, of course – she has, in fact, helped decorating it yesterday, but seeing it after twilight, with the candles floating around and the fake melting stalactites, the little snowflakes falling without reaching the floor, and the blooming peach flowers and snowbells – it’s almost magical. She is so lost in the atmosphere that she almost misses David asking Snow to dance, and then something brushes against her forearm, and she turns.

“Milady.”

Robin gives her a slight bow of his head, and she smiles – she can’t help it.

“Good evening.”

“You came,” he says, sounding almost relieved. “I wasn’t sure.”

“Wouldn’t miss the Imbolg festivities,” she answers, just a smirk in her eyes that will tell him she couldn’t care less. “I have to say, you clean up well. Sometimes.”

“Wouldn’t want to displease her Majesty,” he says, all serious, then smirks. “Would you like to drink something?”

She’s surprised by his boldness, feels herself nod before she can stop, says, _Something to drink sounds marvelous_ , follows him to the refreshments, and accepts the cup he’s offering her. It’s a sort of mixture, she ignores who made it, but it will work, after all, to calm her jittery nerves. It’s a kind of excitement she hadn’t felt in… well, forever, if she has to think about it. He’s watching her, she realizes. Just to occupy her hands, she swallows a sip of her drink.

“It is actually quite good,” she tells him, surprised. “Reminds me of…”

“I know,” he flashes her a smile, and says, “Ruby made them. I figured they’d remind you of your… lost realm. She had us find some herbs, she wanted to surprise everyone.”

“Well, she certainly did,” she murmurs. “Roland isn’t here, is he?”

He smiles sheepishly, tells her, “He’s still recovering, I’m afraid. He was heartbroken, didn’t want to miss his _Majestry’s_ ball.”

“Poor baby,” she whispers. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to throw another ball just for him.”

It’s easier than she thought it would be, to be civil with him, this banter is… good, it’s working, for once, and she feels herself relax. Of course, the rest of the participants are busy and are not paying attention to her, and that helps immensely. Robin nods, there’s a moment of silence falling between them, and she throws a rapid glance at the room. No one is watching them.

A beat, and she tells him.

“I wanted to thank you,” she bites her lip, watches as his eyes lift as soon as he hears the words. “For… you know, for your drawing. It was perfect.”

He doesn’t answer, but squeezes her fingers between the folds of her gown. “I’m glad.”

“Yes, well,” she averts her eyes. “I suppose Snow is better at describing people than she is at keeping secrets.”

“She did a good job, didn’t she? It’s not easy, if I haven’t seen the person before, but I’m happy we managed to bring you some solace.”

“It has been a tolerable birthday so far,” she admits – it makes him laugh. “You know it pains me to say it, so don’t ask me to repeat it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, your Majesty.”

Regina sips her drink once more, meeting his eyes. It seems he’s working up the courage to ask her something, because he bites his lip as he does, when he’s pondering, and – how come she knows the thief’s quirks so well?

“Would… would you care to dance, milady?” he finally says.

She looks at him, her heart stops beating for a moment – weird, because she knows every jump and somersault of her heart, but this has never felt before, or at least, not in a long time – looks at his kind eyes never leaving hers, for a split second, and breathes – nods. “Yes.”

His smile could light up the whole forest, and he offers her his arm. Just like that, the music changes. It’s been violins, until now, but there’s a flute now, as well – quicker, she feels it in her heartbeat, as Robin leads her towards the middle of the room. She feels herself blush a little, lowers her head for a moment, and knows that, most likely, she has everyone’s eyes on her. It’s the first time she dances this kind of… jig, she wouldn’t know how else to call it.

“I… I’m not sure I know the steps,” she confesses, emboldened by her drink. He nods, and whispers, _Neither do I, but we’ll follow the others_.

The music takes them towards a circle, and wonderful, Regina thinks, it’s a group dance, but then no, they’re still in pairs and Robin is taking her hands and – the violins build up, they accelerate, and she’s letting him lead now, glances at the other couples and she spots Snow and Charming, but then he distracts her.

His hand on her hip is very distracting, for some reason –

“Focus on me,” he whispers, lifts her hand as she nods, he makes her spin, and two steps back and one ahead. It becomes easy after a while, she hears those who aren’t dancing who are clapping, following the rhythm. The circle moves, and he must know this dance, because he hasn’t had a single hesitation.

There are shivers on her nude arms, where his fingers are touching her, there are shivers when he nears his lips to her ear and brings her close, then makes her spin again. He has to have lifted her up, at some point, but it’s all a blur, the violins are much quicker now, and this must be the end, and she forgets it all – her troubles, she only sees his eyes and the flickers of the candles, the blue and white and gold in the ball room, and –

They still, so impossibly close, the music has stopped.

She’s breathless.

When she realizes – how close they are, how she can count the amount of blue in his eyes, she steps back, embarrassed. 

“I’m sorry, I –”

“It’s quite alright,” he says, equally breathless. “It was a good dance.”

“It was,” she agrees, almost pained.

He clearly sees something she can’t, because he asks, knowingly, “Would you like some fresh air, your Majesty?”

And the old fear is back, she feels thousands of eyes now, gazes crawling on her skin, her breaths are labored and her heart beats faster against her wrists, her head dizzy with all the spinning.

“Yes – please.”

.:.

The small, secret garden behind the wall isn’t well known, and actually the perfect place, he thinks, as he watches Regina pushing a small key inside its hole. She makes him go through first, locks the door behind them – to ensure that no one will come and search for her, he imagines. She looks better already, but she’s still flushed, her eyes glassy.

“Are you alright?” he asks, touching lightly her bare arm. “You’re shivering.”

“Well it _is_ February after all,” she says, and then there’s a wave of smoke and she has a deep crimson cloak on her shoulders, and a small, almost pocket-sized bonfire, fluttering mid-air. “I feel better now, thank you.”

Robin glances at her, motions at the small stone bench in a corner, and she nods. He notices, that she sits with something akin to relief, and strangely enough, she doesn’t object when he joins her.

“I…” she starts, pausing almost immediately. “I was about to kiss you, you know.”

He doesn’t know exactly what those words do to him – he just feels a beautiful, burning sensation surging in his heart, and the irresistible impulse to hug her and kiss her too, but… they’re not there yet, and who knows if they’ll ever be.

“I see,” he says, his fingers itching for hers, as she still doesn’t meet his gaze. “What stopped you?”

“Are you kidding?” she flares up, and now, now he sees her, her eyes that went ablaze and are finally joining his. “We were in the middle of the ball room, in case you didn’t notice.”

“I know, sorry,” he tries to amend. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it, you know.”

“It’s… complicated – _I_ am complicated. You don’t want to be mired in my mess of a life.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of –”

“You don’t understand,” she says, looking towards the darkness, towards something he can’t see. “You really don’t.”

He sighs – can’t help himself. He, then, tries something he wouldn’t try on a different occasion. He passes his arm around her shoulders, half-expecting her to char him, but she doesn’t – she goes willingly, leaning against him, and goes to rest her head against his chest.

“Maybe I don’t,” he murmurs. “But don’t think about it now. Just let all your thoughts go away, just for once. You were doing a splendid job until now, milady.”

He feels her nod, and murmur, “I hate my birthday, without Henry.”

It’s so low, her voice, he almost doesn’t hear it, but his heart clenches. “I know, darling.”

He’d never dare to call her that, on normal days, but this isn’t a normal evening, and she’s tired and not herself, so he won’t take advantage of her frazzled state, he’ll be who she needs right now – a shoulder to cry on.

And to his surprise, she searches for his fingers and goes to hold his hand.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “Perhaps I’ll tell you, one day. All the complicated things.”

“I cannot wait to listen,” he promises. For now, he’ll just hold her, because it’s what she needs – and tomorrow, it’ll be another story entirely, as he fully expects her to go back to their old banters, but tonight he’ll hold her until she’s better, and he’ll wait until that beautiful heart of hers will be ready. 


End file.
